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-  Illlitt 

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IIIM 

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1.25      1.4 

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Photographic 

Sciences 
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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

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CIHM/ICMH 

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po 
of 
fill 


Or 
be 
th< 
sic 
oti 
fir 
sic 
or 


Th 
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Til 
wl 

M< 
dif 
en 
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mc 


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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nécessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  méthode. 


1  2  3 


1  2  3 

4  5  6 


"V 


■■• 


i 


^gg^^^^ 


;  * 


This  is  of  Aucassin  and  Nicolette 


I 


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tf^dh 


'  ■mmi^JiiSLJÊtiiiiL^'Sii'    ..I  '7   '■»iiiii'Si'li»mr.É;M&.  lun  ■«        i   . .^.jSbSSBeSîI 


msm 


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THIS  IS  OF  AUCASSIN  AND 
NICOLETTE:  A  SONG-TALE 
OF  TRUE  LOVERS  ^TRANS- 
LATED INTO  ENGLISH  BY 
M.  S.  HENRY  FROM  THE  LIT- 
TLE VARYING  OLD  FRENCH 
TEXTS  OF  H.  SUCHIER,  GAS- 
TON PARIS  AND  F.  W.  BOUR- 
DILLON  AND  THE  VERSE 
TRANSLATION  RHYMED  BY 
EDWARD  W.  THOMSON  ^ 
BOSTON:  COPELAND  AND 
DAY:   MDCCCXCVI 


-X    ■•.>' 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress 
by  Copeland  and  Day  1896  in  the 
Library  for  Congress  at  Washington 


f)aE/\J 


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f 


H? 


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^itirnrr  1111111,1111  i  , 


■iiaânBidB 


.JM^MIftJlëi. 


THIS  IS  OF  AUCASSIN  AND 
NICOLETTE 

IHO  lists  a  goodly  tale 

to  hear, 

That  was  an  aged 

captive's  cheer, 

Of  youth  and  maiden 

I  fair  and  sweet, 

Aucassin  and  Nicolette, 
Of  what  great  pains  he  had  despite, 
And  of  his  prowess  in  the  fight 
For  his  true-love  of  visage  bright? 
The  song  is  sweet,  the  story  fair, 
Seemly ,  courtly ,  debonair  ; 
No  man  there  is  so  sore  aghast, 
By  pain  so  wearily  held  fast. 
By  might  of  sorrow  laid  so  low. 
But  if  he  hear  it  straight  he  '11  go 
Made  brave  by  joy  and  healed  com- 
plete. 
It  is  so  sweet. 

I  -- 


! 


Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 
and  they  Tell  : 

now  the  Count  Bougars  de 
Valence  made  war  against  the 
Count  Garin  de  Beaucaire  so 
great  and  so  strong  and  so  deadly  that 
not  a  single  day  dawned  when  there 
were  not  at  the  gates  and  at  the  walls 
and  at  the  barriers  of  the  town  a  hun- 
dred Knights  and  ten  thousand  men- 
at-arms,  horse  and  foot;  and  they 
burned  his  estates  and  laid  waste  his 
country  and  killed  his  men. 

The  Count  Garin  de  Beaucaire  was 
old  and  frail,  he  had  outlived  his  time. 
He  had  no  heir,  neither  son  nor  daugh- 
ter, except  one  only  boy  ;  who  was  of 
such  sort  as  I  shall  tell  you. 

Aucassin  was  the  young  lord 
named  :  he  was  fair  and  graceful  and 
tall  and  well  shaped  of  legs  and  feet 
and  body  and  arms.     He  had  golden 

2 


.: 


« 


hair  curling  in  small  curls,  and  eyes 
gray-blue  (vair)  and  laughing,  a  face 
bright  and  comely,  and  a  nose  high 
and  well  set;  and  he  was  so  gifted 
with  good  gifts  that  he  had  in  him 
nothing  that  was  bad — good  only. 
But  he  was  overcome  by  Love,  which 
conquers  all,  and  wished  not  to  be  a 
Knight,  nor  to  take  to  arms,  nor  to  go 
to  the  tourney,  nor  to  do  anything 
that  he  ought.  His  father  and  mother 
said  to  him:  ^  ^'Son,  now  take  thy 
arms,  and  mount  horse  and  defend 
thy  estate  and  help  thy  men  !  If  they 
see  thee  among  them,  so  will  they  the 
better  defend  themselves  and  their 
goods  and  thy  domain  and  mine."  ^ 
"Father,"  said  Aucassin,  "now  of 
what  do  you  speak?  May  God  give 
me  nothing  that  I  ask  Him  if  I  be  a 
Knight,  or  mount  horse,  or  go  to  the 
combat  or  to  the  battle  where  I  may 
3 


m^pv  .-I   W^i^-^f^*^ 


strike  Knights  and  others  strike  me,  if 
you  give  me  not  Nicolette,my  sweet 
friend  that  I  love  so  much."  ^  "  Son/' 
said  the  father,  "  this  cannot  be.  Let 
Nicolette  alone.  She  is  a  captive  that 
was  brought  from  a  strange  country, 
and  the  Viscount  of  this  town  bought 
her  from  the  Saracens,  and  brought 
her  to  this  town;  and  he  has  reared  and 
baptised  and  made  her  his  god-daugh- 
ter, and  one  of  these  days  he  will 
give  her  to  a  simple  youth  who  will 
honourably  earn  her  bread.  With  this 
hast  thou  naught  to  do.  And  if  thou 
wish  to  take  a  wife  I  will  give  thee 
the  daughter  of  a  King  or  of  a  Count. 
There  is  not  so  great  a  man  in  France 
but,  if  thou  wished  to  have  his  daugh- 
ter, he  will  give  her  to  thee."  ^ 
"Alack!  father/'  said  Aucassin, 
"where  is  there,  now,  so  high  a  dig- 
nity on  earth  that  if  Nicolette,  my 

4 


-4*'      J 


sweet  friend  had  it,  she  would  not 
well  uphold  it  ?  If  she  were  Empress 
of  Constantinople  or  of  Germany,  or 
Queen  of  France  or  of  England,  it 
would  be  little  enough  for  her;  so 
true  is  she  and  courteous  and  gentle 
and  gifted  with  all  good  qualities." 
Now  it  is  sung  : 

QUCASSIN  was  of  Beau- 
caire,  [fair  ; 

His  dwelling  was  that  Castle 
From  Nicolette,  the  shapely  may, 
No  man  could  draw  his  heart  away  ; 
But  her  his  father  him  denied, 
And  him  his  mother  oft  would  chide  : 
"  How  now,  fool  !   Whatwould'st 
thou  risk? 

Nicolette  is  bright  and  brisk. 
But  cast  away  from  Carthage  when 
They  bought  her  from  a  Saracen  ! 
Since  you  desire  to  wed  a  mate 
Choose  some  dame  of  high  estate." 


m 


:r*-,«ai 


^Mi 


f 

I 
! 


P*" 


.1*     ^  ir^-i^î^iwu..  iiiw.i.wjT- 


^ 


"  Mother,  Ï  can  no  other  bear 

For  Nicolette  is  debonair, 

So  gentle  shaped,  her  looks  so  clear, 

Her  beauty  gives  my  heart  its  cheer. 

That  I  should  have  her  love  is  meet, 

Who  is  so  sweet." 
Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 
and  they  Say  : 

^y  •^HEN  Count  Garin  de  Beau- 
fl  M  I  caire  saw  that  he  could  not 
%^  ^withdraw  Aucassin,  his  son, 
from  love  of  Nicolette,  he  betook 
himself  to  the  Viscount  of  the  town 
who  was  his  vassal  and  accosted 
him  :  ^  "Sir  Viscount!  Now  away 
with  your  god-daughter  !  Cursed  be 
the  land  from  which  she  was  brought 
into  this  country  !  For  by  her  I  lose  Au- 
cassin, who  will  neither  be  a  Knight 
nor  do  anything  that  he  ought.  And 
know  well  that  if  I  can  seize  her  I  will 
burn  her  in  a  fire — and  you  too  may 

6 


^■■1 


have  great  fear  for  yourself!"^  "Sir/* 
said  the  Viscount,  **  it  troubles  me  that 
he  goes,  or  that  he  comes,  or  that  he 
speaks  to  her.  I  had  bought  her  with 
my  money,  and  had  reared  her  and 
baptised  her  and  made  her  my  god- 
daughter, and  would  have  given  her 
to  a  simple  youth  who  would  honour- 
ably earn  her  bread.  With  this  had 
Aucassin,  your  son,  nothing  to  do. 
But  since  it  is  your  will  and  your  good 
pleasure,  I  will  send  her  to  such  a  land 
and  to  such  a  country  that  his  eyes 
shall  never  behold  her."  (^  "  Now, 
have  a  care  for  yourself  !  "  said  the 
Count  Garin;  "great  evil  may  come 
of  it  to  you." 

They  parted.  Now  the  Viscount 
was  a  very  rich  man  and  had  a  rich 
palace  in  a  garden.  In  a  chamber 
there,  in  a  high  storey,  he  had  Nico- 
lette  put,  and  an  old  woman  with  her 


1 


gmÊmÊÊÊ^ÊÊÊÊà 


^  ^-^»-^- 


-A.       «.. 


igsâBBÊ^amÊiÊÊÊÊÊ^ 


for  company  and  to  hold  fellowship, 
and  he  had  bread  and  meat  and  wine 
put  there — and  whatever  they  could 
need.  Then  he  had  the  entrance 
sealed  so  that  there  was  no  way  to  go 
in  there,  nor  to  come  out  —  except 
insomuch  as  there  was  a  window 
towards  the  garden  —  small  enough 
— from  which  a  little  fresh  air  came 
to  them. 
Now  it  is  sung  : 

S^O  Nicolette  is  thrust  in  gloom 
Within  a  vaulted  prison- 
room  ; 
*Twas  fashioned  in  a  curious  wise 
And  painted  to  a  wondrous  guise. 
Against  a  marble  casement  now 
The  tristful  maiden  leaned  her  brow  : 
Her  hair  was  of  the  shine  of  gold, 
Her  eyebrows  delicate  enscroUed, 
Her  comely  face  was  clear  as  air — 
None  ever  saw  a  face  more  fair. 

8 


Î 


I 


0' 

c 


1 


I 


Over  the  woods  she  gazed  about, 
And  saw  the  roses  opened  out, 
And  saw  the  little  song-birds  fly, 
I  And  cried  "  A  woful  orphan,  I  ! 

Ah,  me,  aweary,  wretched  me. 
Why  must  I  here  in  prison  dree? 
O  Aucassin,  my  love,  my  lord, 
Ever  art  thou  by  me  adored. 
And  me,  in  sooth,  you  do  not  hate  ; 
For  thee  I  'm  in  this  prison-grate. 
For  thee  I  'm  in  these  vaulted  walls. 
Where  heavy  sadness  me  enthralls  : 
But  yet,  through  Mary's  Son,  I  still 
Shall  not  stay  long  held  by  this  ill. 

For  want  of  will  !  " 

Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 

and  they  Say  : 

ICOLETTE  was  in  prison  in 

the  chamber  as  you  have  heard 

and  understood.   The  cry  and 

the  noise  went  through  all  the  land  and 

through  all  the  country  that  Nicolette 

9 


was  lost.  Some  say  she  is  fied  out  of 
the  land  and  some  say  that  the  Count 
Garin  de  Beaucaire  has  had  her  mur- 
dered. Whoever  had  joy  of  this  Au- 
cassin  was  not  joyful;  but  he  went  to 
the  Viscount  of  the  town  and  accosted 
him:  ^  "Sir  Viscount,  what  have  you 
done  with  Nicolette,  my  most  sweet 
friend,  the  thing  I  love  most  in  all  the 
world?  Have  you  carried  her  away  or 
stolen  her  from  me?  Know  well  that  if 
I  die  of  it  vengeance  will  be  claimed 
from  you  for  it;  and  that  will  be  very 
just;  for  you  will  have  killed  me  with 
your  two  hands  ;  for  you  have  taken 
away  from  me  the  thing  that  I  love 
most  in  the  world."  ^  "FairSir,"said 
the  Viscount,  "  now  let  be  !  Nicolette 
is  a  captive  whom  I  have  brought  from 
a  strange  land  ;  and  I  bought  her  with 
my  money  from  the  Saracens,  and  I 
have  reared  and  baptised  and  made 

JO 


I 


i 


her  my  god-daughter;  and  I  have 
maintained  her,  and  I  would  have 
given  her,  one  of  these  days,  to  a  simple 
youth  who  would  honourably  earn  her 
bread.  With  this  you  have  nothing  to 
do.  But  take  the  daughter  of  a  King 
or  of  a  Count.  Moreover,  what  do  y  ou 
think  you  would  have  gained  if  you 
had  made  her  your  paramour,  or  put 
her  in  your  bed  ?  Much  loss  thereby, 
little  gain;  for  to  the  world's  end  your 
soul  would  always  be  in  hell,  and  into 
Paradise  you  would  never  enter."  ^ 
"What  have  I  to  do  in  Paradise?  I 
seek  not  to  enter  there,  but  let  me  have 
Nicolette  my  most  sweet  friend  whom 
I  love  so  much.  Into  Paradise  none 
go  except  the  sort  of  people  I  will  tell 
you  of.  There  go  those  old  priests  and 
those  lame  and  crippled  ones  who  all 
day  and  all  night  grovel  before  altars 
and  in  old  crypts;  and  those  clothed  in 
U 


ft 


m 


m 


te 


old,  worn  cloaks  and  in  old  rags;  those 
who  are  naked  and  barefoot  and  full 
of  sores  ;  those  who  die  of  hunger  and 
of  thirst  and  of  cold,  and  of  miseries. 
These  go  to  Paradise;  with  them  have 
I  nothing  to  do  ;  but  into  hell  I  wish  to 
go.  For  into  hell  go  the  goodly  clerks 
and  the  goodly  knights,  who  have  died 
in  the  tourneys  and  in  the  great  wars  ; 
and  the  good  soldier  and  the  true  man. 
With  these  do  I  wish  to  go.  And  there 
go  also  the  fair,  courteous  ladies  who 
have  two  loves  or  three  besides  their 
lords.  And  there  go  also  the  gold  and 
the  silver  and  the  rich  furs  (et  li  vair  et 
li  gris)  ;  and  there  go  also  the  harper 
and  minstrel  and  the  Kings  of  the 
world.  With  these  I  wish  to  go,  only 
let  me  have  Nicolette,  my  most  sweet 
friend,  with  me."  ^"  Certes,*'  said  the 
Viscount,  "you  speak  in  vain;  for 
nevermore  shall  you  see  her.    And  if 

12 


I 


:; 


I  ' 


you  should  speak  to  her  and  your 
father  should  know  it,  he  would  burn 
both  me  and  her  in  a  fire,  and  you 
yourself  might  have  great  fear."  ^ 
"This  troubles  me,"  said  Aucassin. 
He  went  from  the  Viscount,  griev- 
ing. 
Now  it  is  sung: 

HO  Aucassin  has  turned  away 
In  sorrow  sore  and  deep  dismay, 
Lamenting  for  his  bright-faced 
may; 

No  man  could  comfort  him  a  word. 
Nor  make  the  voice  of  counsel  heard  ; 
He  hied  him  back  to  tall  Beaucaire, 
And  strode  him  up  the  Castle  stair, 
And  entered  to  his  chamber's  keep. 
And  straight  began  to  wail  and  weep. 
And  very  doleful  plaint  to  make, 
All  for  his  gentle  true-love's  sake. 
•*  O  Nicolette,  O  fair  of  mien  ! 
Coming  or  going  fair  beseen, 
J3 


h 

'*■' 


?    t 


Fair  în  laughter,  fair  in  play, 
In  jesting  fair  of  speech  alway, 
In  kissing  sweet,  embracing  so  ! 
For  loss  o  f  thee  I  have  such  woe 
That  here  I  'm  fain  to  make  an  end 

Sweet  sister  friend  !  " 

Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 

and  they  Say  : 

m  H  ILE  Aucassin  was  in  the 
chamber,  and  lamenting  Nic- 
olette,his  love, the  Count  Bou- 
gars  de  Valence,  who  had  his  war 
to  finish,  forgot  it  not,  but  called  forth 
his  men,  horse  and  foot  and  led  them 
to  assail  the  castle.  And  the  cry  rises^ 
and  the  noise;  and  Knight  and  fol- 
lower arm  and  run  to  gate  and  walls 
to  defend  the  castle  ;  and  the  towns- 
man climbs  behind  the  battlements 
of  the  walls  and  throws  bolts  and 
sharpened  stakes.  While  the  assault 
was  great  and  in  full  force  the  Count 

14 


VI 


Garin  de  Beaucaire  went  into  the 
chamber  where  Aucassin  made  dole 
and  lamented  Nicolette,  his  most 
sweet  friend  whom  he  loved  so 
much. 

"Ha!  son,"  cried  he,  "how  very 
contemptible  and  unhappy  art  thou, 
in  that  thou  seest  thy  castle  assaulted, 
the  best  and  strongest.  And  know,  if 
thou  lose  it,  thou  art  disinherited! 
Son,  now  take  arms  and  mount  horse 
and  defend  thy  land  and  help  thy  men 
and  go  to  the  storm.  There,  even  if 
thou  strike  no  man  and  no  man  thee, 
yet,  if  they  see  thee  among  them,  they 
will  the  better  defend  their  goods  and 
their  bodies  and  thy  land  and  mine. 
And  thou  art  so  big  and  so  strong  that 
thou  canst  well  do  it,  and  do  it  thou 
should'st."  ^  "  Father,"  said  Aucas- 
sin, "  now  of  what  do  you  speak  ?  May 
God  give  me  nothing  I  ask  of  Him  if  I 

J5 


Ss^'fi'^' -'!«>'    .;■■&'• 


■  i..^~- 


J..''  -^«.j* 


(■I- 

m   ■ 


il'J 


T'* 


will  be  a  Knight,  or  mount  a  horse,  or 
go  to  the  fray  where  I  may  strike 
Knights  or  others  me,  if  you  do  not 
give  me  Nicolette,  my  sweet  friend, 
whom  I  love  so  much  !  "  ^  "  Son," 
said  the  father,  "this  cannot  be. 
Rather  would  I  endure  that  I  be  all 
despoiled  and  that  I  lose  all  I  have 
than  that  thou  ever  should'st  have  her 
as  woman  or  as  wife." 

He  turned  away.    And  when  Au- 
cassin  saw  him  go,  he  recalled  him. 

"Father,"  said  Aucassin,  "come 
back  ;  I  will  make  fair  covenant  with 
you."  ^  "And  what,  fair  Son?"  ^ 
"  I  will  take  up  arms,  and  I  will  go  to 
the  fray  under  this  covenant, — that  if 
God  bring  me  back  safe  and  sound, 
you  will  let  me  see  Nicolette,  my  sweet 
friend,  until  I  have  spoken  two  or  three 
words  to  her,  and  have  kissed  her  only 
once."  ^  "lagreeto  it,"  saidthe  father. 

16 


He  granted  it  and  Aucassin  was 
happy. 
Now  it  is  sung: 

^^3r^  HEN  Aucassin  hears  of  the  kiss 
■  A    I  That  shall,  when  he  returns,  be 

A  hundred  thousand  marks  of  gold, 
By  any  one  unto  him  told, 
Would  make  his  heart  less  gay  and 
bold. 

"  Bring  armour,  "  then  he  quickly  bade. 
And  ready  him  they  f eatly  made, 
A  hauberk-doublet  on  him  braced  ; 
His  helmet  on  his  head  he  laced. 
He  girt  his  pure-gold-hilted  glaive 
And  sprang  upon  his  war-horse  brave  ; 
He  took  his  shield,  his  spear  he  took. 
And  downward  to  his  feet  did  look, 
The  stirrups  fitted  them  full  neat. 
And  wondrous  well  he  held  his  seat  : 
His  sweet  true-love  he  had  in  mind. 
He  spurred  his  horse  and  left  behind 
17 


IE 


I' 


lit 


The  outer  gate  and  sped  away 

To  join  the  fray. 
Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 
and  they  Say  : 

^^rW  UCASSIN  was  on  his  horse, 
^LêM  armed  as  you  have  heard  and 
C^ll..gJ|  understood.  Lord!  how  the 
shield  sat  to  his  neck,  and  the  helmet 
to  his  head  and  the  sword-belt  on  his 
left  hip  !  And  the  boy  was  tall  and 
strong  and  fair  and  graceful  and  well- 
knit,  and  the  horse  on  which  he  sat 
was  fiery  and  eager,  and  the  boy  had 
spurred  him  well  through  the  gateway. 
Now  do  not  suppose  that  he  thought 
of  taking  oxen  and  cows  and  goats,  nor 
that  he  struck  Knights,  nor  others  him. 
No,  not  at  all, — he  never  dreamed  of 
it  ;  but  thought  so  much  of  Nicolette, 
his  sweet  friend,  that  he  forgot  his  reins 
and  all  that  he  ought  to  do.  And  the 
horse,  which  had  felt  the  spurs,  carried 

18 


[ 


t 


him  on  through  the  press  and  plunged 
him  into  the  midst  of  his  enemies;  and 
hands  were  stretched  out  on  all  sides 
to  take  him;  and  they  wrested  from 
him  shield  and  lance,  and  took  him 
prisoner  then  and  there,  and  went  ever 
debating  by  what  death  they  should 
cause  him  to  die. 

And  when  Aucassin  heard  them  : — 

"Ah!  Lord,  merciful  Being!  Are 
these  my  mortal  enemies  who  have 
taken  me  and  now  will  cut  off  my 
head?  And,  if  my  head  be  cut  off, 
nevermore  shall  I  speak  to  Nicolette, 
my  sweet  friend  whom  I  love  so  much. 
Yet  have  I  this  good  sword  and  I  sit  on 
my  good  fresh  steed.  If  now  I  do  not 
deliver  myself  for  her  sake  may  God 
never  help  her  if  she  love  me  more." 

The  youth  was  tall  and  strong  and 
the  horse  under  him  was  eager.  And 
he  puts  his  hand  to  his  sword  and 

J9 


strikes  right  and  left,  and  cuts  through 
helmets  and  nose-pieces  and  clenched 
hands  and  arms,  and  makes  a  havoc 
around  him  such  as  the  wild  boar 
makes  when  the  dogs  worry  him  in 
the  forest.  And  then  he  overthrows 
ten  Knights,  and  strikes  down  seven  ; 
and  he  pushed  on  at  once  out  of  the 
press  and  came  galloping  back,  sword 
in  hand. 

The  Count  Bougars  de  Valence 
heard  it  said  that  they  were  going  to 
hang  Aucassin  his  enemy  and  he 
came  that  way — and  Aucassin  did 
not  take  it  amiss.  He  gript  his  sword 
in  hand  and  struck  him  upon  the  hel- 
met so  that  he  cut  it  through  to  the 
head.  He  was  so  stunned  that  he  fell 
to  the  earth  ;  and  Aucassin  put  out  his 
hand  and  seized  him  and  led  him  cap- 
tive by  the  nose-piece  of  his  helmet 
and  gave  him  to  his  father. 

20 


é 


F 


' 


"Father,"  said  Aucassin,  "behold 
your  enemy  who  has  harassed  you  so 
much  and  made  such  trouble!  Twenty 
years  now  this  war  has  lasted;  and 
never  could  be  ended  by  man."  ^ 
"Fair  son,"  said  the  father,  "such 
deeds  of  hot  youth  should'st  thou  do, 
and  not  gape  at  folly."  ^  "  Father," 
said  Aucassin,  "do  not  go  preaching 
at  me  but  keep  my  covenant  with 
me!"  ^"Bah!  What  covenant,  fair 
son?"  ^"  Good  faith!  Father!  have 
you  forgotten  it  ?  By  my  head,  who- 
ever forgets  it,  I  will  not  forget  ;  for  it 
holds  me  by  the  heart.  Were  you  not 
in  covenant  with  me  when  I  took  up 
arms  and  went  to  the  battle,  that  if 
God  should  bring  me  back  safe  and 
sound  you  would  permit  me  to  see 
Nicolette,  my  sweet  friend,  until  I 
should  have  spoken  two  or  three 
words  to  her  and  should  have  kissed 
2J 


[I 


m 

I  s    -5 
I  :     f 


m 


her  once?  This  had  you  in  covenant 
with  me  and  this  promise  I  will  have 
you  keep  to  me."  i^  "I?"  said  the 
father.  "  May  God  never  help  me  if  I 
hold  covenant  with  thee  in  this.  And 
if  she  were  here  I  would  burn  her  in  a 
fire,  and  thou,  too,  might  have  great 
fear."  ^  ^'  Is  this  quite  the  end?  "  ^ 
"So  God  help  me,"  said  the  father, 
"yes!"  ^  "Certes,"  said  Aucassin, 
"  now  I  am  much  grieved  when  a  man 
of  your  age  lies." 

"  Countde  Valence,"  said  Aucassin, 
"I  have  taken  you  prisoner?"  ^ 
"Truly,  Sir!"  said  the  Count.  ^  "Give 
here  your  hand,"  said  Aucassin.  ^ 
"Willingly,  Sir."  He  put  his  hand 
in  his.  ^  "  Now  swear  to  me,"  said 
Aucassin,  "  that  if  on  any  day  that  you 
may  have  to  live  you  be  able  to  do 
hurt  to  my  father  or  annoy  him  in  his 
being,  or  having,  you  will  do  it!  "  ^ 

22 


\l  I 


"•t-m 


"Sir,  for  God's  sake!"  said  he,  "do 
not  mock  at  me,  but  put  me  at  ran- 
som. You  will  never  know  how  to 
claim  ier  me  gold,  or  silver,  horses  or 
palfreys,  nor  any  sort  of  rich  furs  (ne 
vair  ne  gris),  hounds  or  hawks,  that  I 
will  not  give  them  to  you."  ^"  What  !  " 
said  Aucassin,  "  do  you  not  know  that 
I  have  captured  you  ?  "  ^  "  Sir,  yes  !  " 
said  Bougars.  ^  "  May  God  never  help 
me,"  said  Aucassin,  "  if  I  do  not  make 
that  head  fly  from  you,  if  you  swear  it 
not  to  me  !  "  ^  "  In  the  name  of  God  !" 
said  he,  "  I  swear  to  you  whatever  it 
pleases  you." 

He  swore  to  him;  and  Aucassin 
made  him  mount  a  horse,  and  he 
mounted  another  and  went  with  him 
until  he  was  in  safety. 


(rf 


23 


,L 


r 
II 


ir 


Now  it  is  sung: 

^PV^HEN  now  Count  Garin  plain 
fl  M    I  doth  see 

^m  ^ Of  Aucassin,  his  son,  that  he 
Will  never  take  his  heart  away 
From  Nicolette,  his  beaming  may, 
He  has  him  in  a  dungeon  bound  ; 
The  cell  was  builded  underground, 
And  with  gray  marble  walled  around. 
So  now  when  Aucassin  was  there 
He  never  knew  such  deep  despair, 
He  took  to  lamentations  drear 
As  you  shall  hear  : — 
*' Ah,  Nicolette,  ah,  Lily  white. 
Sweet  love,  of  face  sunshiny  bright, 
More  sweet  than  ever  grapes  did 
grow. 

Or  ever  wine  sop  was,  I  trow  ! 
One  day  I  saw  a  pilgrim  lie 
On  his  bed  and  like  to  die, 
(Of  Limousin  the  man  was  born). 
Much  distressed  and  most  forlorn, 

24 


I 


3sa= 


1, 


Sick  with  fevered  swimming  head  ; 
Thou  didst  pass  anear  his  bed 
And  hap  to  grasp  thy  trailing  gown 
And  ermine  kirtle  hanging  down, 
And  raised  thy  linen  smock  a  wee,  — 
So  much  the  pilgrim  he  could  see 
Thy  dainty  foot  and  ankle  slim. 
Forth  flew  the  fever  out  of  him  ! 
The  pilgrim  from  his  bed  arose, 
And  back  to  his  own  country  goes. 
Safe  and  sound  and  free  from  teen. 
And  better  than  he  *d  ever  been  ! 
Sweetest  love  and  Lily  white. 
Fair  in  greeting,  fair  in  flight. 
Fair  in  playing,  fair  in  toying. 
Speaking  fair,  and  fair  enjoying, 
Kissing  sweet,  and  sweet  in  cheer, — 
None  could  ever  hate  thee,  dear  ! 
For  thee  I  'm  in  this  prison  thrown. 
Here  I  sit  and  make  great  moan, 
And  here  meseemeth  I  shall  end 

For  thee,  sweet  friend  !  " 
25 


i 


i\ 


J/ 


!   »' 


ri 


h* 

m 


Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 
and  they  Say  : 

UCASSIN  was  in  prison  as 
you  have  heard  and  under- 
stood, and  Nicolette  was,  on 
the  other  hand,  in  the  chamber.  It  was 
in  summer  time,  in  the  month  of  May, 
when  the  days  are  warm,  long  &  clear, 
and  the  nights  quiet  and  unclouded. 

Nicolette  lay  one  night  in  her  bed 
and  saw  the  moon  shine  clear  through 
the  window  and  she  heard  the  nightin- 
gale sing  in  the  garden  and  she  thought 
of  Aucassin  her  friend  whom  she  loved 
so  much.  She  began  to  think  on  the 
Count  Garin  de  Beaucaire  who  hated 
her  unto  death,  and  so  she  thought  that 
she  would  stay  there  no  longer,  for  if 
she  were  betrayed  and  Count  Garin 
knew  of  it,  he  would  make  her  die  an 
evil  death. 
She  saw  that  the  old  woman  who 

26 


I 


was  with  her  slept.  She  arose  and  put 
on  a  gown  of  cloth  of  silk,  the  best 
that  she  had  ;  and  took  the  bed-clothes 
and  towels  and  tied  them  together,  and 
made  a  rope  as  long  as  she  could;  and 
tied  it  to  the  post  of  the  window,  and  let 
herself  down  into  the  garden  ;  and  she 
took  her  gown  with  one  hand  before 
and  the  other  behind,  and  tucked  it 
up  for  the  dew  that  she  saw  big  on  the 
grass,  and  so  she  went  down  the  gar- 
den. She  had  hair  golden  and  curled 
in  little  curls,  and  eyes  blue-gray  and 
laughing,  and  face  shapely,  and  a  nose 
high  and  well-set,  and  lips  redder  than 
cherries  or  the  roses  in  summer  time 
—and  teeth  white  and  small.  And  she 
had  firm  little  breasts  that  heaved  her 
gown  as  if  they  were  two  walnuts  ;  and 
she  was  so  small  around  the  middle 
that  you  could  clasp  it  in  your  two 
hands  ;  and  the  daisy  flowers  that  she 
27 


Il 


\1 


bent  with  the  toes  of  her  feet,  as  they 
fell  back  on  the  instep  above,  were 
right  black  against  her  feet  and  her 
legs,  so  very  white  was  the  maiden. 

She  came  to  the  postern  gate  and 
unlocked  it,  and  so  came  out  into  the 
streets  of  Beaucaire,  moving  within 
the  shadow,  for  the  moon  shone  very 
clear,  and  she  kept  on  until  she  came 
to  the  tower  where  her  true-love  was. 
The  tower  was  supported  with  but- 
tresses from  place  to  place,  and  she 
crouched  down  beside  one  of  the  but- 
tresses, and  wrapped  herself  in  her 
cloak;  and  she  put  her  head  into  a 
chink  in  the  tower,  which  was  old  and 
in  decay,  and  she  heard  Aucassin 
weepingwithin  and  making  great  dole 
and  lamenting  his  sweet  friend  whom 
he  loved  so  much.  And  when  she  had 
listened  to  him  long  enough  she  began 
to  speak. 

28 


'  ) 


Now  it  is  sung: 

alCOLETTE  the  bright-faced 
may 
Leaned  against  a  pillar  gray, 
Then  Aucassin  she  heard,  full  drear 
Lamenting  for  his  true-love  dear, 
So  then  she  spoke  and  told  hermind: — 
"  Oh,  noble  Aucassin  and  kind, 
True  young  honoured  lord,  let  be! 
Lament  no  whit  availeth  thee 
Since  thou  canst  never  cherish  me; 
Alas,  thy  father  hates  my  name. 
And  all  thy  family  the  same  ; 
Now  for  thy  sake  I  *11  cross  the  sea, 
And  wander  in  a  far  countree." 
She 's  cut  a  tress  from  off  her  hair, 
And  cast  it  in  the  dungeon  there  : 
Now  Aucassin  the  tress  has  ta' en. 
And  blest  it  o'er  and  o'er  again, 
And  honoured  it  and  fond  caressed. 
And  kissed  and  hid  it  in  his  breast; 
And  then  again  in  tears  he  brake, 

For  his  love's  sake. 
29 


**^"'''-4«y««j(i»->jS..- 


7 
il 


Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 
and  they  Say  : 

^^2^^  HEN  Aucassin  heard  Nico- 
/  /  I  lette  say  that  she  would  go 
%%  %  away  into  another  country, 
he  had  no  room  in  him  but  for  rage  : — 
"Fair  sweet  friend,"  said  he,  "you 
shall  not  go  away,  for  then  would  you 
have  killed  me.  And  the  first  who 
should  see  you,  if  he  could  he  would 
take  you  forthwith  and  would  put  you 
in  his  bed  and  make  you  his  para- 
mour ;  and,  after  you  shall  have  been 
cast  into  the  bed  of  any  other  man  and 
not  into  mine,  now  think  not  that  I 
shall  wait  until  I  find  a  knife  with 
which  I  could  strike  myself  to  the 
heart  and  kill  myself.  Nay,  truly,  so 
long  would  I  not  wait,  but  would  rush 
until  I  should  see  a  wall  or  a  gray 
stone,  and  there  I  would  dash  my  head 
so  hard  that  I  should  make  the  eyes 

30 


I- 


burst  out  and  should  knock  out  my 
brains  entirely.  Yet  would  I  like  bet- 
ter to  die  a  death  like  that  than  know 
you  had  been  cast  into  the  bed  of  a 
man,  and  that  not  mine."  ^  "Ah," 
said  she,  "  I  do  not  think  you  love  me 
so  much  as  you  say,  but  I  love  you 
more  than  you  do  me."  ^  "Alack!" 
said  Aucassin,  "fair  sweet  friend!  it 
could  not  be  that  you  should  love  me 
so  much  as  I  do  you.  Woman  cannot 
love  the  man  so  much  as  the  man 
does  the  woman.  For  the  love  of  the 
woman  is  in  her  eyes,  and  in  the  tip  of 
the  nipple  of  her  breast,  and  in  the  tip 
of  the  toe  of  her  foot  ;  but  the  love  of 
the  man  is  planted  down  in  his  heart 
from  which  it  cannot  come  forth." 

While  Aucassin  and  Nicolette 
talked  together  the  patrol  of  the  town 
came  along  the  street  ;  and  they  had 
swords  drawn  under  their  cloaks,  for 

31 


luî 


1/ 


j|. 


f' 


Count  Garin  had  commanded  them 
that  if  they  could  take  her  they  should 
at  once  kill  her.  And  the  warden  who 
was  on  the  tower  saw  them  come  and 
heard  how  they  went  talking  of  Nico- 
lette  and  how  they  threatened  to  kill 
her. 

"  God  !  '*  said  he,  "  what  great  pity  if 
they  kill  so  fair  a  maiden!  And  it 
would  be  a  very  great  kindness  if  I 
could  tell  her  so  that  they  could  not 
notice  it — that  she  might  hide  herself 
from  them  ;  for  if  they  kill  her  then  will 
Aucassin  my  young  lord  die,  which 
would  be  great  loss." 
Now  it  is  Sung: 

/^•i^HE  warden  was  of  chivalrie, 

m^  ^  Courteous,  brave,  and  man- 

^^^  nerlie. 

So  he  began  to  sing  a  lay 

Kind  and  pleasing  to  that  may  : — 

"  Little  maid  with  open  heart, 

32 


a 


Very  sweetly  shaped  thou  art, 
Smiling  face  and  gray-blue  eyne, 
Head  of  golden  hair  ashine  ; 
By  thy  seeming  well  I  see 
Thou'st  spoken  him  who  dies  for  thee. 
Hear  me  now  and  understand  ; — 
Hide  thee  from  the  hireling  band, 
They  are  coming  thee  to  snare, 
Swords  beneath  their  cloaks  are  bare. 
They  come  threatening  to  slay, 
And  they'll  hew  thee  every  way  ; 

Hide  an  thou  may  !  " 

Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 

and  they  Say  : 

OH!"  said  Nicolette,  "the  soul 
of  thy  father  and  of  thy  mother 
be  in  blessed  rest,  for  that  so 
well  and  so  courteously  thou  hast  told 
me  this.  If  God  please  I  will  take 
good  care  of  myself,  and  may  God 
take  care  of  me!" 


Vi 


ii 


33 


rl^ 


I!  ;  I 

|(: 
p  , 

Hit' 


She  wraps  herself  in  her  cloak  in  the 
shadow  of  the  buttress  until  they  had 
passed  beyond  ;  and  she  takes  leave  of 
Aucassin,  and  goes  on  until  she  came 
to  the  wall  of  the  castle.  The  wall  had 
been  broken  down  and  she  climbed 
upon  it, — so  did  she  go  until  she  was 
between  the  wall  and  the  moat  ;  and 
she  looked  down,  and  saw  the  moat 
very  deep  and  very  steep,  and  she  had 
very  great  fear. 

"O  God!"  said  she,  "gentle  Being! 
If  I  let  myself  fall  I  shall  break  my 
neck  ;  and  if  I  stay  here,  they  will  take 
me  to-morrow  and  will  burn  me  in  a 
fire.  Yet  do  I  like  better  that  I  die  here 
than  that  all  the  people  might  stare  at 
me  to-morrow  with  great  wonder." 

She  crossed  herself,  and  she  let  her- 
self slip  down  the  moat;  and  when 
she  came  to  the  bottom  her  fair  feet 
and  her  fair  hands,  which  had  never 

34 


: 


learned  that  tkey  could  be  wounded, 
were  bruised  and  flayed,  and  the  blood 
gushed  from  them  in  as  many  as 
twelve  places  ;  and  notwithstanding, 
she  felt  neither  wound  nor  pain  for  the 
great  fear  that  she  had.  And  if  she  was 
at  great  pains  to  get  in,  yet  had  she 
much  greater  to  get  out. 

She  thought  it  would  not  be  well  to 
tarry  there,  and  she  found  a  sharpened 
stake  which  those  within  had  thrown 
to  defend  the  castle,  and  she  took  one 
step  above  the  other  and  thus  climbed 
with  great  pains  until  she  came  up 
to  the  top. 

Now  there  was  a  forest  near,  within 
two  bowshots,  which  stretched  quite 
thirty  leagues  in  length  and  breadth, 
and  there  were  savage  beasts  and  ser- 
per-^ts  in  it.  She  had  fear  lest,  if  she 
went  there,  they  might  kill  her  ;  and 
again  r>he  thought  that  if  she  were 

35 


:  11 


^•■^^■^" 


mmmmmm 


■  i  V 

!^ 

I  I'- 
ll 

ill 


i. 


found  where  she  was  she  would  be 
carried  back  to  the  town  to  be  burned. 
Now  it  is  Sung: 

aICOLETTE,the  bright-faced 
may, 
She  has  climbed  the  moated 
way, 

And  she  begins  to  sorely  weep 
And  call  on  Jesus  her  to  keep  : — 
"  Father,  Lord  of  Majesty, 
Now  I  know  not  where  to  flee  ; 
If  I  seek  the  thick  branched  wood 
Wolves  will  seize  me  for  their  food. 
Besides  the  lion  and  wild  boar. 
Which  are  there  enough  and  more  ; 
Should  I  wait  the  light  of  day. 
And  here  be  found,  as  well  I  may. 
They  will  kindle  up  the  flame. 
And  burn  my  body  on  the  same  ; 
But,  by  the  Godhead's  grace  and 
might, 
I  do  prefer  the  forest  plight, 

36 


> 


r 

a 


i. 


That  boar  and  lion  me  may  eat, 
An  1  that  the  wolf  shall  find  me  sweet, 
Than  in  the  town  be  haled,  and  so 

I  will  not  go." 

Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 

and  they  Say  : 

alCOLETTE  lamented  much, 
as  you  have  heard.  She  com- 
mended herself  to  God  and 
went  on  until  she  came  into  the  forest. 
She  dared  not  to  go  far  in  for  the  savage 
beasts  and  serpents;  so  she  crouched 
down  in  a  dense  thicket,  and  went  to 
sleep  there,  and  she  slept  until  the  mor- 
row at  the  first  hour  of  the  morning, 
when  the  herd-boys  came  forth  from 
the  town  and  drove  their  beasts  be- 
tween the  wood  and  the  river.  And 
they  betook  themselves  one  side,  to  a 
most  beautiful  spring  which  was  at 
the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  they  spread 
a  cloak  and  put  their  food  on  it.  While 
37 


I 


T 


.s    '  .■.)"*IW"WWF""»^HiWf>^"^ 


!.^l 


\} 


they  ate,  Nicolette  awoketo  the  voices 
of  the  birds  and  the  herd-boy,  and  she 
hurried  to  them. 

"  Fair  youths/'  said  she,  "may  God 
aid  you!"  (^  "God  bless  you!"'  said 
the  one  who  was  more  ready  of  tongue 
than  the  others.  ^  "Fair  youths,"  said 
she,  "do  you  know  Aucassin,  son  of 
the  Count  Garin  de  Beaucaire?"  ^ 
"Yes,  well  do  we  know  him."  ^  "If 
God  help  you,  fair  youths,"  said  she, 
"tell  him  that  there  is  a  beast  in  this 
forest  that  he  should  come  and  chase  ; 
and  that  if  he  can  take  it,  he  would  not 
give  one  of  its  limbs  for  one  hundred 
gold  marks,  nor  for  five  hundred,  nor 
for  any  money." 

And  they  looked  at  her  ;  and  they 
saw  her  so  beautiful  that  they  were  all 
astonished  at  her. 

"  I  tell  him  !  "  said  the  one  who  was 
more  ready  of  tongue  than  the  others. 

38 


\ 


"Sorrow  to  him  who  shall  ever  speak 
it  ;  or  whoever  shall  tell  him  !  It  is  a 
fantasy  that  you  tell;  there  is  not  a 
beast  of  such  worth  in  this  forest, 
neither  deer  nor  lion  nor  wild-boar,  of 
which  one  of  the  limbs  is  worth  more 
thantwo  pence,  or  three  at  the  most, — 
and  you  speak  of  so  much  money  !  But 
sorrow  to  him  who  believes  in  you,  or 
who  ever  shall  tell  him.  You  are  a 
fairy,  and  we  have  no  liking  for  your 
company, — so  go  y  our  way  !  "  ^"Ah! 
fair  youth,"  said  she,  "you  will  do  so  ! 
The  beast  has  such  a  remedy  that  Au- 
cassinwill  be  cured  of  his  hurt.  And  I 
have  here  five  sous  in  my  purse  ;  take, 
and  tell  him.  And  within  three  days 
it  behooves  him  to  chase  it,  and  if  in 
three  days  he  find  it  not,  never  will  he 
be  cured  of  his  hurt.'*  ^  "Faith  !  "  said 
he,  "the  pennies  we  will  take,  and  if 
he  come  here,  we  will  tell  him,  but  we 

39 


f 


■r?c" 


trmmm 


tmm 


will  never  go  to  seek  him."  ^  "As  God 
wills  !"  said  she. 

Then  she  takes  leave  of  the  herd- 
boys,  and  goes  away. 
Now  it  is  Sung: 

HO  Nicolette,the  bright-faced 
may, 
Leaves  the  herds  and  goes 
her  way  ; 

Through  the  leafy  wood  she  trode. 
An  ancient  pathway  was  her  road, 
'Till  at  the  turning  place  she  stays,  — 
It  is  the  fork  where  seven  ways 
Go  through  the  country  roundabout  ; 
And  there  she  ponders  as  in  doubt 
How  she  may  prove  her  lover's  faith, 
And  if  he  love  her  as  he  saith. 
She  took  the  lily  flowers  fair. 
And  oaken  saplings  twisted  there. 
Many  a  leaf  she  wove  between, 
And  made  a  bower  fair  and  green,  — 
No  fairer  ever  yet  was  seen. 

40 


\' 


i 


..  /* 


She  swore  to  God  who  never  lied, 
If  this  way  Aucassin  shall  ride, 
And  will  not  tarry  there  and  take 
His  rest  awhile  for  her  love's  sake, 
He  never  shall  her  true  love  be, 

Nor  his  love  she. 

Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 

and  they  Say: 

ICOLETTE  had  made  the 
bower  as  you  have  heard  and 
understood;  very  beautiful  and 
very  neat;  and  she  had  bedecked  it 
well  within  and  without  with  flowers 
and  with  leaves  ;  and  she  hid  herself 
near  the  bower  in  a  thick  bush  that 
she  might  see  what  Aucassin  would 
do. 

And  the  cry  and  the  noise  went 
through  all  the  land  and  all  the  coun- 
try that  Nicolette  was  lost.  Some  say 
she  is  run  away,  and  others  said  the 
Count  Garin  had  done  her  to  death. 
4J 


I 


11 


V 


Whoever  had  joy  of  this,  Aucassin 
was  not  joyful.  And  Count  Garin  his 
father  ordered  him  taken  out  of  prison  ; 
and  he  sent  for  the  Knights  of  the  land 
and  the  noble  damosels,  and  he  had  a 
very  fine  feast  made,  because  he 
hoped  to  comfort  Aucassin  his  son. 

At  the  time  when  the  feast  was  at  its 
height,  Aucassin  was  leaning  on  a  rail 
of  a  balcony  all  dolorous  and  all  bowed 
down.  Whoever  could  demean  him- 
self with  joy,  Aucassin  had  no  will  for 
it,  since  he  saw  nothing  of  her  whom 
he  loved.  A  Knight  looked  at  him, 
and  came  to  him  and  accosted  him. 

"Aucassin,**  said  he,  "of  the  same 
hurt  as  you  have,  I  have  been  wound- 
ed. I  will  give  you  good  counsel,  if 
you  will  believe  me."  ^  "Sir,"  said 
Aucassin,  "great  thanks  !  Good  coun- 
sel would  I  buy  dear."  ^  "  Mount 
horse,"  said  he,  "and  go  along  the 

42 


^..-iAv-.^i»,, 


t 


edge  of  the  forest  to  amuse  yourself; 
and  you  will  see  the  flowers  and  the 
grass,  and  will  hear  the  little  birds  sing. 
Peradventure  you  may  hear  a  word  of 
which  you  will  be  better."  ^  "Sir," 
said  Aucassin, ''great  thanks!  And  I 
will  do  it." 

He  stole  away  from  the  hall,  and 
went  down  the  stairs  and  into  the 
stable  where  his  horse  was.  He  or- 
dered the  saddle  and  the  bridle  to  be 
put  on;  he  put  foot  in  stirrup  and 
mounted  and  came  out  from  the 
castle.  And  he  went  until  he  came  to 
the  forest,  and  he  rode  until  he  came 
to  the  spring,  and  he  found  the  herd- 
boys  at  the  hour  of  none(three  o'clock); 
and  they  had  spread  a  cloak  on  the 
grass,  and  they  were  eating  their  bread 
and  made  very  great  mirth. 


43 


:  i 


k 


M   : 


I     ^i 


n 


h: 


Now  it  is  sung: 

HO  the  herd-boys  merry  be, 
There  were  Martin, Esmerie, 
Fruelin  and  Johanet, 
Robinçon  and  Aubriet  ; 
"  Fellows,"  one  spoke  up  and  said 
"  God  give  Aucassin  his  aid, — 
Faith,  a  pretty  youth,  I  say  ! — 
And  that  little  dainty  may, 
She  that  had  the  golden  hair. 
Face  so  clear  and  eyes  of  vair. 
She  who  gave  us  pennies  bright, 
Which  shall  buy  us  cakes  to-night, 
Knives  with  sheaths,  and  whistles 
clear, 

Little  clubs,  and  flutes  to  cheer, 
Also  little  pipes  that  squeal,  — 

May  God  him  heal!" 


\ 


44 


Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 
and  they  Say  : 

^TJSr^HEN  Aucassin  heard  the 
#  M  I  herd-boys  hethought of  Nico- 
^^  ^lette,  his  most  sweet  friend 
whom  he  loved  so  much,  and  he 
thought  she  had  been  there.  And  he 
touched  the  horse  with  the  spurs,  and 
came  to  the  herd-boys. 

"Fair  youths,  God  aidyou!"j^"God 
bless  you!"  said  the  one  who  was 
more  ready  of  tongue  than  the  others. 
^  "  Fair  youths,"  said  he,  "sing again 
the  song  you  sang  just  now  !  "^"  We 
will  not  sing  it,"  said  the  one  who  was 
more  ready  of  tongue  than  the  others. 
"  Now  sorrow  be  to  him  who  shall  sing 
it  for  you,  fair  sir  !  "  ^  "  Fair  youths," 
said  Aucassin,  "do  y  ou  not  know  me  ?  " 
^  "  Yes,  we  know  well  that  you  are 
Aucassin  our  young  lord,  but  we  are 
not  yours  but  the  Count's."  ^  '*  Fair 

45 


!'•     ;;  i 


n 

•I 


youths,  you  will  do  so,  I  pray  you  !  "  ^ 
"Oh,dear  heart  !  "  said  this  one.  "Why 
should  I  sing  for  you  if  it  does  not  suit 
me? — when  there  is  not  so  great  a  man 
in  this  country  —  save  Count  Garin 
himself  —  who,  if  he  found  my  oxen 
or  my  cows  or  my  sheep  in  his  field, 
or  in  his  wheat,  would  so  risk  having 
his  eyes  torn  out  that  he  would  dare 
to  chase  them  away.  And  why  should 
I  sing  for  you,  if  it  does  not  suit  me?  " 
^  "If  God  help  you,  fair  youths,  you 
will  do  so  !  And  take  ten  sous  that  I 
have  here  in  a  purse."  ^  "Sir,  the 
money  we  will  take,  but  I  will  not  sing 
for  you,  for  I  have  sworn  it  ;  but  I  will 
tell  it  to  you  if  you  like."  ^  "As  God 
wills  !  "  said  Aucassin  ;  "  I  would  like 
it  told  better  than  have  nothing."  ^ 
"  Sir,  we  were  here  lately,  between  the 
first  hour  of  the  morning  and  the  third, 
and  we  ate  our  bread  be5idethis  spring, 

46 


as  we  do  now;  and  a  maiden  came 
here,  the  fairest  thing  in  the  world,  so 
that  we  thought  she  was  a  fairy,  and 
that  all  this  wood  was  lightened  by  her. 
And  she  gave  us  so  much  of  her  money 
that  we  made  covenant  with  her  that 
if  you  came  here,  we  would  tell  you 
that  you  should  go  to  hunt  in  this  for- 
est; that  there  is  a  beast  of  which,  if 
you  can  take  it,  you  would  i\o>:  give 
one  of  its  limbs  for  five  hundred  marks 
of  silver,  nor  for  any  money  ;  for  the 
beast  has  such  a  remedy  that  if  you 
can  take  it,  y  ou  will  be  cured  from  your 
wounds.  And  within  three  days  it  be- 
hooves you  to  catch  it,  and  if  you  have 
not  caught  it,  nevermore  will  you  see 
it.  Now  chase  it  if  you  choose,  or  leave 
it  if  y  ou  choose,  for  I  am  well  acquitted 
towards  her."  ^  "  Fair  youths,'*  said 
Aucassin,  "you  have  said  enough. 
And  may  God  let  me  find  it  !  " 

47 


m 


lU 


ut 


k    »■ 


1/ 


l  s 


■►   i 


'i 


Now  it  is  sung  : 

^j^J^  yHEN  Aucassin  these  words 
#  M    I  did  hear, 

^J%J^A11  of  his  gentle  true-love 
dear, 

They  sank  full  deep  into  his  heart  ; 
Then  from  the  herd-boys  he  did  part. 
He  entered  in  the  shady  wood, 
Ambling  on  his  war-horse  good. 
And  sometimes  at  a  gallop  sped,  — 
Till  he  spoke  three  words  and  said  : — 
"  Nicolette,  oh,  sweet  shaped  may  ! 
For  thee  I  'm  in  the  forest  way  ; 
I  chase  not  either  boar  or  deer. 
But  for  thyself  I  'm  seeking  here  ; 
Thy  gentle  shape,  thy  eyes  of  vair, 
Thy  loving  words  and  smiles  so  fair. 
Have  broke  my  heart  full  nigh  to 
death  ! 

If  so  God  please,  who  gave  me  breath, 
I  '11  see  thee  yet  before  the  end. 

Sister,  sweet  friend  !  '  * 

48 


S 


■IP 


Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 
and  they  Say  : 

^  W"  UCASSINwentthroughthe 
AhJ  forest  from  path  to  path  and 
^  .^JBl  his  charger  bore  him  on  at  a 
great  pace.  Do  not  suppose  that  the 
brambles  and  the  thorns  spared  him  ! 
No,  not  at  all  ;  but  they  tore  his  clothes 
so  that  one  could  hardly  have  tied  them 
up  where  most  whole,  and  so  that  the 
blood  ran  forth  from  his  arms  and  sides 
and  legs  in  forty  places  or  in  thirty,  so 
that  one  if  following  the  boy  could 
trace  him  by  the  blood  which  fell  on 
the  grass.  But  he  thought  so  much  of 
Nicolette,  his  Sweet  friend,  that  he  felt 
neither  pain  nor  wound. 

And  hf"  went  all  day  through  the  for- 
est in  such  a  way  that  he  never  had 
news  of  her.  And  when  he  saw  that 
evening  drew  near  he  began  to  weep 
because  he  had  not  found  her.   By  an 

49 


ï^T' 


il 


Ik    ^ 


) 


old  grassy  way  he  rode.  He  looked 
before  him  in  the  middle  of  the  way, 
and  saw  a  youth  of  such  sort  as  I  shall 
tell  you  :  — 

Big  he  was  and  strange  and  ugly  and 
frightful  ;  he  had  a  large  head  blacker 
than  a  coal  and  was  more  than  the  full 
width  of  the  palm  between  his  two 
eyes  ;  and  he  had  great  cheeks  and  a  . 
very  big,  flat  nose,  and  big,  wide  nos- 
trils, and  thick  lips  redder  than  broiled 
meat,  and  large  teeth  yellow  and  ugly  ; 
and  he  was  shod  in  leggings  and  shoes 
of  ox-hide  bound  by  withes  of  bark 
up  to  and  over  the  knee  ;  and  he  was 
wrapped  in  a  cloak  with  two  wrong 
sides  ;  and  was  leaning  on  a  big  club. 
Aucassin  hurried  up  to  him,  and  had 
great  fear  when  he  locked  at  him. 

"Fair  brother,  God  help  thee!"  ^ 
"  God  bless  you!  "  said  this  one.^  "  As 
God  help  you,  what  do  you  here  ?  "  ^  ^ 

50 


"  What  does  it  matter  to  you  ?  **  ^ 
'' Nothing  at  all/'  said  Aucassin;  ''I 
only  ask  you  as  a  good  word."  ^  ^'  But 
why  do  you  weep  ?  "  sr  îd  this  one,"  and 
make  so  great  dole?  Surely,  if  I  were 
so  rich  a  man  as  you  are,  all  the  world 
would  not  make  me  weep."  ^  "Why  ! 
Do  you  know  me  ?  "  said  Aucassin.  ^ 
"Yes,  I  know  well  that  you  are  Au- 
cassin the  son  of  the  Count  ;  and  if  you 
tell  me  why  you  weep,  I  will  tell  you 
what  I  do  here."  ^  "  Surely,"  said  Au- 
cassin, "  I  will  tell  it  to  you  willingly. 
I  came  this  morning  to  hunt  in  this  for- 
est, for  I  had  a  white  greyhound,  the 
most  beautiful  in  this  world,  and  I  have 
lost  it  ;  for  this  I  weep."  ^  "Oh  !  "  said 
the  other,  "by  the  heart  which  the 
Saviour  had  in  his  body  !  You  weep 
for  a  stinking  dog  !  Black  sorrow  be 
his  who  shall  ever  pity  you,  since  there 
is  not  a  rich  man  in  this  land  who,  if 
51 


■»  " 


i'l 


Eli 


li  * 


your  father  asked  of  him  ten  or  fifteen 
or  twenty,  would  not  send  them  very 
willingly,  and  be  too  glad  to  do  it.  But 
I  ought  to  weep  and  make  dole."  ^ 
"And  for  what,  brother?"  ^  "Sir,  I 
will  tell  you.  I  was  hired  by  a  rich 
farmer  and  drove  his  plough  ;  he  had 
four  oxen.  Now  three  days  ago  there 
happened  to  me  a  great  misfortune, 
since  I  lost  the  best  of  my  oxen,  Roget, 
the  best  of  my  team,  and  I  go  seeking 
him.  And  I  have  neither  eaten  nor 
drunk  for  three  days  past;  and  I  dare 
not  go  back  to  the  town  lest  the  far- 
mer put  me  in  prison,  since  I  have  not 
wherewithal  to  pay  him.  Of  all  the 
wealth  of  the  world  I  have  nothing  of 
any  worth  more  than  you  see  on  my 
body.  A  weary  old  mother  I  had,  and 
she  had  nothing  of  any  worth  besides 
a  wretched  mattress,  and  that  he  has 
dragged  away  from  under  her  back, 

52 


^ 


: 


^     •*        ■'-     >!*.» 


and  she  lies  on  the  bare  straw  ;  and  I 
grieve  much  more  for  her  than  for 
myself.  For  money  goes  and  comes  ; 
if  I  have  now  lost  I  shall  gain  another 
time  and  will  pay  for  my  ox  when  I 
can  ;  never  for  that  shall  I  weep.  And 
you  wept  for  a  dog  of  the  dunghill! 
Black  sorrow  to  him  who  shall  ever 
pity  you  more."  ^  "  Surely  you  are  of 
good  comf  ort,f  air  brother, — bless  you! 
And  what  was  your  ox  worth?  "  ^ 
"  Sir,  twenty  sous  they  ask  me  for  it; 
I  cannot  abate  a  single  farthing."  ^ 
"  Now  take,"  said  Aucassin,  "twenty 
that  I  have  here  in  my  purse,  and  pay 
for  your  ox!"  ^  "Sir,"  said  he,  "great 
thanks!  And  may  God  let  you  find  that 
which  y  ou  seek  !  " 

He  parts  from  him  and  Aucassin 
rides  on.  The  night  was  beautiful  and 
still,  and  he  wandered  until  he  came 
to  the  turn  where  the  seven  ways  fork, 

53 


^'f^^^t^t^^mm^mm 


'    JJ 


.-;  < 


§: 


ï  ' 


il  ; 


he  looked  before  him  and  saw  the  fair 
bower  which  Nicolette  had  made  ;  and 
the  bower  was  decked  without  and 
within  andabo  ve  and  below  with  flow- 
ers, and  it  was  so  beautiful  that  one 
more  so  could  not  be  seen.  When  Au- 
cassin  saw  it  he  stopped  at  once,  and 
the  rays  of  the  moon  made  in. 

'^Ah  Lord!"  said  Aucassin,  ^'here 
has  been  Nicolette,  my  sweet  friend, 
and  she  has  made  this  with  her  fair 
hands.  For  her  sweetness'  sake  and 
for  love  of  her  I  will  now  dismount 
here,  and  will  therein  repose  for  the 
rest  of  the  night." 

He  took  his  foot  out  of  the  stirrup  to 
come  down;  and  the  horse  was  big 
and  tall.  He  was  thinking  so  much 
of  Nicolette,  his  most  sweet  friend, 
that  he  fell  so  hard  on  a  stone  that  his 
shoulder  flew  out  of  its  place,  and  he 
felt  much  hurt,  but  he  tried  the  best  that 

54 


he  could,  and  he  tied  his  horse  with  the 
other  hand  to  a  thorn  ;  and  he  turned 
about  on  his  side  until  he  came  all  on 
his  back  into  the  bower.  And  he  looked 
through  an  opening  of  the  bower  and 
saw  the  stars  in  the  sky,  and  he  saw 
there  among  them  one  brighter  than 
the  others.  And  he  began  to  sing  :  — 
Now  it  is  sung: 

HOU  star!  I  see  thee,  Star,  on 

high, 
_     The  moon  doth  strive  to  draw 
thee  nigh; 

My  Nicolette  is  with  thee  there. 
My  little  love  with  golden  hair, 
I  think  God  wills  to  have  her  near 
She  is  so  beautiful       .        .        • 


;.♦' 
» 


[Lines  lost  from  the  original.] 

E'en  though  to  fall  my  hap  might  be, 
55 


w 


•  I 


Oh,  that  I  were  up  there  with  thee  ! 

I  'd  kiss  thee  close  and  with  thee  cling, 

For,  were  I  son  of  any  King 

Thou  'd  suit  my  heart  all  else  above, 

Sister,  sweet  love!  " 
Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 
and  they  Say  : 

HEN  Nicolette  heard  Aucas- 

sin  she  came  to  him,  for  she 

was  not  far  away.   She  went 

into  the  bower,  and  threw  her  arms 

around  his  neck  and  kissed  him  and 

caressed  him. 

"  Fair  sweet  friend,  but  you  be  wel- 
come!"^ "And  you,  fair  sweet  friend, 
well  found!" 

They  kissed  each  other  and  em- 
braced, and  sweet  was  their  joy. 

"Ah!  sweet  friend,"  said  Aucassin, 
"I  was  just  now  much  hurt  in  the 
shoulder,  but  I  feel  neither  pain  nor 
grief  since  I  have  you." 

56 


! 


I 


She  felt  him  about  and  found  that 
his  shoulder  was  out  of  place.  She 
handled  it  so  with  her  white  hands  and 
so  pulled  it  that,  as  God  willed,  who 
loves  lovers,  it  came  back  to  its  place. 
And  then  she  took  some  flowers  and 
some  fresh  grass  and  green  leaves,  and 
tied  it  up  in  a  part  of  her  slip,  and  he 
was  all  cured. 

"Aucassin,"  said  she,  "fair  sweet 
friend,  take  thought  what  you  will  do  ! 
If  your  father  has  this  forest  searched 
to-morrow  and  I  am  found,  whatever 
may  happen  to  you,  they  will  kill  me." 
^  "Surely,  fair  sweet  friend,  Ishould 
be  much  grieved  at  that  !  But  if  I  can, 
they  shall  never  seize  you." 

He  mounted  his  horse,  and  took  his 
true-love  before  him,  kissing  and  fon- 
dling her  ;  and  they  set  out  towards 
the  open  fields. 


57 


! 


vy 


n.        I 
I 


I: 


î^' 


f  *:  » 


Now  it  is  sung: 

OO  W  Aucassin,  the  golden- 
hair, 
The  gracef ul>  amorous,  and 
fair, 

Has  come  from  out  the  woodland 
way; 

Within  his  arms  his  true-love  lay 
Before  him  on  his  saddle  bow  ; 
Her  eyes  he  kisses  and  her  brow, 
Her  mouth,  her  chin,  her  cheeks,  her 
hair. 

And  then  she  questions  of  him  there: — 
**  O  Aucassin,  my  true-love,  say 
To  what  land  shall  we  flee  away?" 
"  Sweet  love,  I  neither  care  nor  know; 
It  matters  nothing  where  we  go, 
By  highway,  lane,  or  forest  free. 
If  only  I  may  be  with  thee." 
They  pass  the  hills,  they  pass  the 
downs. 

They  pass  the  villages  and  to  wns, 

58 


1 


They  came  at  daybreak  to  the  strand, 
And  there,  alighting,  were  at  stand, 

Upon  the  sand. 

Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 

and  they  Say  : 

UCASSIN  had  dismounted, 
he  and  his  true-love  together, 
_  as  you  have  heard  and  under- 
stood. He  took  his  horse  by  the  rein 
and  his  true-love  by  the  hand  and  be- 
gan to  walk  along  the  shore.  And 
Aucassin  saw  a  vessel  passing  and  he 
made  out  some  merchants  sailing 
very  near  the  shore.  He  beckoned 
to  them,  and  they  came  to  him  ;  and 
he  so  made  his  way  with  them  that 
they  took  him  in  their  vessel.  And 
when  they  were  on  the  high  sea  a 
storm  arose,  great  and  marvellous, 
which  drove  them  from  land  to  land 
until  they  reached  a  strange  country 
and  entered  the  gate  of  the  castle  of 
59 


f 


^1 


■;■■» 


I      I  i 


'I    " 


l!     'I 


it  ; 
J 


?M 


Torelore.  Then  they  asked  whose 
land  it  was  ;  and  they  told  them  that  it 
was  the  land  of  the  King  of  Torelore. 
Then  he  asked  what  man  he  was, 
and  if  he  made  any  war  ;  and  they  told 
him  "  Yes,  a  mighty  one." 

He  took  leave  of  the  merchants  and 
they  commended  him  to  God.  He 
mounted  his  horse,  girded  his  sword, 
his  true-love  before  him,  and  went 
along  until  he  came  unto  the  castle. 
He  asked  where  the  King  was  and 
they  told  him  that  he  lay  in  child-bed. 
"  And  where  then  is  his  wife  ?  " 
And  they  told  him  that  she  was  with 
the  army,  and  she  had  there  led  all  of 
the  country.  And  Aucassin  heard  it, 
and  it  appeared  a  great  marvel  to  him  ; 
and  he  came  to  the  palace  and  dis- 
mounted, he  and  his  love  together; 
and  she  held  his  horse  and  he  went  up 
into  the  palace,  sword  girded,  and 

60 


■ 


went  on  until  he  came  to  the  chamber 
where  the  King  lay. 
Now  it  is  sung:  4 

^^Ai^HEN  Aucassin,  the  gentle 
M^   m^  Knight, 

^^^  In  that  chamber  goes  forth- 
right, 

Up  to  the  bed  he  went  his  way. 
The  bed  whereon  the  Monarch  lay; 
He  stopped,  and  stood  beside  the  bed, 
And  spoke  some  words — hear  what 
he  said: — 

"Go  to,  fool!  what's  this  you've 
done?" 

"  I  am  in  child-bed  of  a  son," 
The  King  said,  "When  my  month 
shall  end, 

I  shall  be  well  and  then  I  '11  wend 
To  hear  a  mass  ;  for  always  so 
My  father  did  ;  and  then  I  '11  go 
To  fight  against  my  enemies,  — 

I  will  not  cease!'* 
6l 


r 


•^m^'W^m^rt^^^'-^m 


T 


fc  II 


i!fr         'I 


p. 


m'        '1 


Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 
and  they  Say: 

m  HEN  Aucassin  heard  the 
King  speak  so,  he  pulled  all 
the  clothes  that  were  on  him 
and  threw  them  down  the  chamber. 
He  saw  behind  him  a  cudgel  ;  he  took 
it,  and  turned  and  struck  and  beat  him 
until  he  had  nearly  killed  him. 

"  Oh  !  fair  sir,"  said  the  King,  "  what 
do  you  ask  of  me  ?  Are  you  crazy  that 
you  beat  me  in  my  own  house?"  ^ 
"  By  the  heart  of  God  !  "  said  Aucas- 
sin, ^411-made  son  of  a  wench,  I  will 
kill  you  if  you  do  not  swear  to  me  that 
never  more  in  your  land  shall  a  man 
lie  in  child-bed!" 

He  swore  it,  and  whenhehad  sworn 
it: 

**  Sir,"  said  Aucassin,  "  now  lead  me 

there  where  your  wife  is  with  the 

army!"  ^"Sir,  willingly,"  said  the 

King, 

^  62 


n 

le 


He  mounted  a  horse  and  Aucassin 
mounts  his,  and  Nicolette  stayed  in 
the  chamber  of  the  Queen. 

And  the  King  and  Aucassin  rode 
until  they  came  where  the  Queen  was, 
and  they  found  the  battle  was  with 
roasted  crab-apples  and  with  eggs  and 
with  fresh  cheeses.  And  Aucassin 
began  to  look  at  them,  and  he  was 
astonished  at  them,  very  deeply. 
Now  it  is  sung: 

UCASSIN  has  halted  now. 
Leaning  on  his  saddle  bow; 

^ He  began  to  watch  the  fight 

uii  in  open  meadow  pight; 
Some  had  cheeses  fairly  good. 
Roast  crab-apples  from  out  the  wood. 
Great  mushrooms  from  whereon  they 
stood  ; 

He  who  troubles  most  the  fords 
Is  proclaimed  their  jfirst  of  lords. 
Aucassin,  the  brave  and  fair, 
63 


w 


-ft 


1 


1^ 


P«  '     ;     ' 


H'f' 


At  the  battle  gave  one  stare, 

And  laughed  out  there. 
Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 
and  they  Say  : 

jf^^  ^HEN  Aucassin  saw  this 
fl  fl^  I  marvel  he  came  to  the  King 
^il^  %  and  accosted  him  : 

"Sir,'*  said  Aucassin,  "are  these 
your  enemies?"  ^  "Yes,  sir,"  said 
the  King.  ^  "And  would  you  that  I 
avenge  you  upon  them?"  ^  "Yes," 
said  he,  "gladly." 

And  Aucassin  set  his  hand  to  his 
sword  and  rushed  among  them  and 
began  to  strike  right  and  left;  and 
killed  many  of  them.  And  when  the 
King  saw  that  he  was  killing  them  he 
caught  him  by  the  bridle  and  said  : 

"  Ho  !  Fair  sir,  do  not  kill  them  so 
utterly  !  "  ^  "  What  !  "  said  Aucassin  ; 
"  do  you  not  wish  that  I  avenge  you?  " 
^"Sir,"  said  the  King,  "you  have 

64 


9t 


done  too  much  already.  It  is  not  the 
custom  that  we  should  kill  one  an- 
other." 

They  turn  and  flee  ;  and  the  King 
and  Aucassin  go  back  to  the  castle  of 
Torelore. 

And  the  people  of  the  country  told 
the  King  that  he  should  drive  Aucas- 
sin out  of  his  land  and  should  keep 
Nicolette  for  his  son  as  she  seemed 
truly  a  lady  of  high  lineage.  And 
Nicolette  heard  this,  and  was  not  glad 
to  hear,  and  she  began  to  speak. 
Now  it  is  sung: 

in^  ING  of  To-re-lo-re,  lord— 
■"^     (Spake  fair  Nicolette  the 

"  Your  folk  take  me  for  a  fool  ! 
But  my  true-love  so  doth  school 
When  his  arms  are  'bout  me  wound, 
When  he  feels  me  soft  and  round, — 
Then  no  dance,  no  carol  gay 
65 


E/1  ( 


,/tl 


îr 


H 


'é  :  [l 


rrf 


r 


1 


(^ 


Mr 


.    f 


m 


Harp,  rebeck,  or  viol's  play, 
Nor  any  gamesomeness  on  earth 

Has  aught  of  worth  !  " 

Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 

and  they  Say  : 

^2»^UCASSIN  was  in  the  castle 
mLÊM  of  Torelore,  with  Nicolette, 
^^  ^  his  friend,  in  great  comfort 
and  great  delight,  for  he  had  with  him 
Nicolette  his  sweet  friend,  whom  he 
loved  so  much.  And  while  he  was  in 
such  comfort  and  such  delight  a  fleet 
of  Saracens  came  over  the  sea  and  as- 
sailed the  castle  and  won  it  by  storm. 
They  took  the  booty  and  carried  men 
and  women  as  captives  away.  They 
seized  Nicolette  and  Aucassin,  and 
they  bound  Aucassin  hand  and  foot 
and  threw  him  into  one  vessel  and 
Nicolette  into  another.  And  there 
arose  on  the  sea  a  tempest  which 
parted  them. 

66 


„«tr.ï^  V*  '^' 


The  ship  in  which  Aucassin  was 
went  so  far  drifting  over  the  sea  that 
it  arrived  at  the  castle  of  Beaucaire  ; 
and  the  people  of  the  country  ran  for 
the  wreck,  and  they  found  Aucassin 
and  knew  him.  When  they  of  Beau- 
caire saw  their  young  lord,  they  made 
great  rejoicing  over  him  ;  for  Aucassin 
had  stayed  in  the  castle  of  Torelore 
for  three  years,  and  his  father  and 
mother  were  dead.  They  took  him  to 
the  castle  of  Beaucaire,  and  they  all 
became  his  men  ;  and  he  held  his  land 
in  peace. 
Now  it  is  sung: 

^^■n^UCASSIN  has  come  to  fare 
AmJ  In  his  castle  of  Beaucaire, 
y^^JL.  All  his  lordship  and  his  land 
Dwell  in  peace  beneath  his  hand  ; 
By  God's  majesty  he  swore 
That  he  holdeth  sorrow  more 
For  Nicolette  his  bright-faced  friend 
67 


T' 


II' 


A  '  Jy  ': 


t 


■n' 


m  • 


if. 


■s 


Than  if  all  his  kin  had  end  : 
"  True-love  of  the  sunny  face, 
Now  I  cannot  guess  thy  place; 
God  never  made  that  kingdom  yet, 
No  land,  no  ocean  hath  He  set, 
But  I  would  search  it,  if  so  be 

I  might  find  thee." 

Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 

and  they  Say  : 

OW  we  will  leave  Aucassin 
and  tell  of  Nicolette.  The  ship 
in  which  Nicolette  was  be- 
longeîto  the  King  of  Carthage.  Now 
he  was  her  father,  and  she  had  twelve 
brothers,  all  princes  or  Kings.  When 
they  saw  Nicolette  so  fair,  they  treated 
her  with  very  great  honour  and  made 
rejoicing  for  her  ;  and  often  they  asked 
her  who  she  was,f  or  indeed  she  seemed 
a  very  noble  lady  and  of  high  lineage. 
But  she  could  not  tell  them  who  she 
was;  for  she  was  carried  away  as  a 
little  child. 

68 


1^ 


They  sailed  until  they  came  below 
the  city  of  Carthage  ;  and  when  Nico- 
lette  saw  the  walls  of  the  castle,  and 
the  country,  she  remembered  that  she 
had  been  nurtured  there,  and  carried 
)  away  a  little  child  ;  but  she  was  not  so 
little  a  child  that  she  did  not  well  know 
she  was  daughter  to  the  King  of  Car- 
thage, and  that  she  had  been  nurtured 
in  the  city. 
Now  it  is  sung: 

aO W  Nicolette  the  brave,  the 
wise. 
Reached  the  shore  and  raised 
her  eyes  ; 

She  saw  the  houses  and  the  walls. 
She  saw  the  palaces  and  halls. 
And  then  she  called  herself  forlorn  ; — 
"The  more  that  I  was  highly  born. 
Daughter  to  the  Carthage  King, 
And  of  a  Sultan's  cousining  : 
Here  a  savage  tribe  hold  me. 
69 


It 


ni 


I 

II 


ë 


'X 


1  ■. 


'1 


r^i  i 


Aucassin,  oh,  frank  and  free, 
Honourable,  wise,  and  young. 
By  memories  of  thee  I  'm  stung, 
And  quickened  and  tormented  now! 
Oh,  may  the  God  of  Heaven  allow 
That  I  may  yet  my  love  embrace, 
And  feel  his  kisses  on  my  face. 
And  on  my  mouth  and  on  my  hair, 

Young  lord  so  fair  !  " 

Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 

and  they  Say  : 

^y  y  HEN  the  King  of  Carthage 
fl  fl  I  heard  Nicolette  speak  thus, 
%^  ^he  threw  his  arms  about  her 
neck. 

"Fair  sweet  friend,"  said  he, "tell 
me  who  you  are  ;  do  not  be  afraid  of 
me!"  ^  "Sir,"  said  she,  "I  am  daugh- 
ter to  the  King  of  Carthage,  and  I  was 
carried  away,  a  little  child,  just  fifteen 
yerrsago." 

When  they  heard  her  speak  thus 

70 


r^ 


)l 


they  knew  well  that  she  told  the 
truth;  and  they  made  very  great  joy 
over  her  and  took  her  to  the  palace 
with  great  honour  as  the  daughter  of 
the  King.  A  lord  they  wished  to  give 
her,  a  Paynim  King,  but  she  had  little 
wish  to  marry.  There  she  was  about 
three  days  or  four.  She  considered  by 
what  means  she  could  seek  Aucassin. 
She  found  a  viol  and  learned  to  play  ; 
until  they  wished  to  marry  her  one 
day  to  a  great  Paynim  King.  And  she 
stole  away  at  night,  and  came  to  the 
seaport  and  she  lodged  at  the  house 
of  a  poor  woman  on  the  shore. 

She  took  an  herb  and  smeared  her 
head  and  her  face  so  that  she  was  all 
dark  and  stained.  And  she  had  made 
a  coat  and  a  cloak  and  a  shirt  and 
breeches,  and  she  dressed  herself  in 
the  guise  of  a  minstrel.  She  took  her 
viol  and  went  to  a  mariner  and  made 

7J 


m 


til 


■< 

I  1^  Î 


I  ' 


%\  ' 


n  1 


W     V 


so  much  way  with  him,  that  he  took 
her  in  his  ship.  They  dressed  their 
sail  and  sailed  so  far  over  the  high  sea 
that  they  came  unto  the  land  of  Pro- 
vence. And  Nicolette  went  out  from 
the  ship  and  took  her  viol  and  went 
playing  through  the  country  until  she 
came  to  the  castle  of  Beaucaire  where 
Aucassin  was. 
Now  it  is  sung: 

O  W  at  Beaucaire  beneath  the 

tower 

Was  Aucassin  one  sunny 

hour, 

He  sat  out  on  a  balcony 

And  round  him  were  his  barons  free  ; 

He  saw  the  grass  and  flowers  about, 

And  heard  the  little  birds  sing  out  ; 

Thoughts  of  his  love  were  in  his  mind. 

Of  Nicolette  the  brave  and  kind, 

Whom  he  had  loved  so  long  and  well  ; 

And  unto  tears  and  sighs  he  fell. 

72 


I 


f 


1; 


I 


Lo,  then  comes  Nicolette  below  ! 
She  raised  her  viol  and  her  bow, 
Spake  and  told  her  story  so  : — 
"  Listen,  noble  lords,  to  me. 
Ye  of  high  and  low  degree, 
If  ye  care  to  hear  a  stave 
All  of  Nicolette  the  brave. 
And  of  Aucassin  the  true  : 
Mighty  love  between  them  grew. 
Her  he  sought  in  forest  deep. 
Then  from  To-re-lo-re's  keep 
Paynims  bore  them  both  away  : 
Of  Aucassin  I  cannot  say. 
But  Nicolette,  the  brave  and  true. 
Doth  in  Carthage  live  anew  ; 
There  her  father,  who  is  King, 
Loves  her  more  than  anything. 
They  wish  that  she  shall  marry  yet 
A  King  o'er  wicked  paynims  set — 
He  is  not  loved  of  Nicolette! 
She  loveth  only  one  young  Knight 
He  who  Aucassin  is  hight  ; 

73 


! 


ï^,^i 


U.  >.     k 


(  ' 


U  t    ' 


'i  I 


In  the  name  of  God  she 's  swore 
Ne*er  will  she  have  lover  more, 
If  she  may  not  find  that  lord, 

By  her  adored." 

Now  they  Speak,  and  they  Relate, 

and  they  Say: 

yPy  ^HEN  Aucassin  heard  Nico- 
>  M  I  lette  speak  thus,  he  was  very 
%^!^i^  happy  ;  and  he  drew  her  aside 
and  questioned  her  : 

"  Fair  sweet  friend,"  said  Aucassin, 
"  do  3/  ou  know  anything  of  this  Nico- 
lette  of  whom  you  have  sung?"^ 
"  Sir,  yes;  I  know  of  her  as  the  truest 
creature  and  the  most  gentle,  and  most 
wise  that  ever  was  born.  And  she  is 
daughter  to  the  King  of  Carthage,  who 
took  her  when  Aucassin  was  taken, 
and  brought  her  into  the  city  of  Car- 
thage, until  he  knewtruly  that  she  was 
his  daughter.  And  he  made  very  great 
joy  over  her.   And  they  wish  every 

74 


day  to  give  her  for  husband  one  of  the 
greatest  Kings  of  all  Spain  ;  but  she 
would  sooner  let  herself  be  hanged  or 
burned  than  take  such  an  one  were  he 
ever  so  rich!"  ^  "Ah!  fair  sweet 
friend,"  said  the  Count  Aucassin,  "if 
you  would  go  back  to  that  country  and 
tell  her  to  come  to  speak  to  me,  I  would 
give  you  as  much  of  my  money  as  you 
would  dare  to  ask  or  take.  I  will  not 
take  a  wife,  be  she  of  ever  so  high  birth, 
but  I  wait  for  her, — never  will  I  have 
wife  if  not  her  !  And  if  I  had  known 
wnere  to  find  her,  I  should  not  have 
to  seek  her  now."  ^  "Sir,"  said  she, 
"  if  you  would  do  this,  I  will  go  to  seek 
her  for  your  sake,  and  for  hers,  whom 
I  love  much." 

He  vowed  it  to  her,  and  then  he  had 
twenty  livres  given  to  her.  She  parted 
from  him,  and  he  wept  for  the  sweet- 
ness of  Nicolette, 

75 


lh\ 


ii' 


Hi 


¥.  I 


u  i 


And  when  she  saw  him  weep,  "Sir/* 
said  she,  ^'be  not  dismayed,  since  in  a 
little  while  I  shall  have  brought  her  to 
you  in  this  town,  and  you  shall  see 
her." 

And  when  Aucassin  heard  her  he 
was  very  happy. 

And  she  left  him,  and  took  her  way 
in  the  town  to  the  house  of  the  Vis- 
countess ;  for  the  Viscount,  her  god- 
father, was  dead.  She  took  lodging 
there,  and  she  talked  to  her  so  that  she 
revealed  to  her  her  affairs;  and  the 
Viscountess  recognized  her,  and  knew 
that  it  was  indeed  Nicolette,  and  that 
she  had  nurtured  her.  And  she  made 
her  wash  and  bathe  and  rest,  eight 
whole  days. 

And  Nicolette  took  an  herb  which 
was  named  Esclaire,  and  rubbed  her- 
self with  it,  and  was  as  fair  as  she  had 
ever  been  any  day.    And  she  dressed 

76 


U  li  t 


â  i 


herself  in  rich  silk  cloth,  of  which  the 
lady  had  plenty  ;  and  she  sat  down  in 
the  chamber  on  a  quilted  coverlet  of 
silk  cloth,  and  she  called  the  lady  and 
told  her  to  go  for  Aucassin  her  love. 

And  she  did  so;  and  when  she  came 
to  the  palace  she  found  Aucassin 
weeping  and  grieving  for  Nicolette, 
his  love,  because  she  delayed  so  long. 
And  the  lady  called  him  and  said  to 
him: 

"Aucassin,  now  lament  no  more, 
but  come  away  with  me  and  I  will 
show  you  the  thing  you  love  most  in 
the  world;  for  it  is  Nicolette  your 
sweet  friend  who  has  come  from  a  far 
country  to  find  you." 

And  Aucassin  was  happy. 
Now  it  is  sung: 

'^^k  O W  when  Aucassin 's  aware, 
I  J|  How  his  beaming  love  is  there, 
Jl,  \9  How  she 's  come  into  his  land, 
77 


ri  «I 

.•■4 


ti" 


Pi  I 


Man  so  happy  ne*er  did  stand  ! 
With  that  lady  he 's  away, 
At  the  door  he  made  no  stay, 
To  the  chamber  he  went  straight, 
Where  sweet  Nicolette  did  wait. 
When  she  saw  her  love  once  more 
She  was  glad  as  ne'er  before  ; 
Up  she  springs  her  ?ord  to  greet, 
Aucassin  beheld  his  sweet  ; 
Out  to  her  go  both  his  arms, 
Foldeth  her  beyond  all  harms, 
Kisseth  her  on  face  and  eyes. 
Night  goes  o'er  them  in  this  wise. 
When  the  morrow  morn  was  there 
Aucassin  espoused  the  fair 
Made  her  lady  of  Beaucaire. 
There  they  lived  from  year  to  year 
Taking  all  delight  and  cheer. 
Now  has  Aucassin  his  bliss, 
Nicolette  hath  also  this  : 
So  our  song-tale  closeth  well 

With  naught  to  tell. 

78 


f 


«■■■ 


This  edition  of  AUCASSIN  AND 
NICOLETTE,  A  Song-Tale  of  True 
Lovers,  Englished  by  M.  S.  Henry 
and  versified  by  Edward  W.  Thom- 
son, IS  printed  by  John  Wilson  and 
Son  of  Cambridge,  during  April,  1896. 
for  Copeland  and  Day,  Boston 


"S^ 


